In Times of Distress, Go to Nature

This week is a powerhouse of energy, shifts, and movement on so many levels. Chinese Lunar New Year, Imbolc, Ramadan, Mayan Haab New Year, rare powerful astrological alignments, are stirring up collective restlessness and dynamic transformation.

With so much happening this week I am deeply reminded of the sacred medicine of the Earth.

When our bodies are overwhelmed with the state of our world, and our nervous systems are hijacked by constant adrenaline, it is common to find ourselves in a state of overwhelm. We lose sight of ourselves, we forget or cannot even feel our heart. 

Sometimes this shows itself when we go into full autopilot mode.

Following the routine and structure of our day, we escape into our roles, responsibilities, and obligations rather than pausing to listen to our hearts.

We've turned off, and we maybe don't even realize it. Even if we do realize, it is as though we are on a wild horse running at full speed with no reins-- it can be extremely difficult to simply stop and just breathe.  

Other times this overwhelm shows up when we cannot even make simple decisions for ourselves.

We want to feel more connected, but with the constant overload of devices, notifications, emails, responsibilities, and tasks, our system essentially shuts down and we don't know how to move forward. I found myself in this state a few days ago. 

Too many things on my plate, too many things happening in the world, too many things I should do, want to do, need to do... my mind raced. But where was my heart?

I was standing in my kitchen debating if I needed to go back to bed, clean the house, drink more water, eat something healthy, make coffee, reply to some emails, tackle some work projects, go for a run, meditate, sage my house... Everything cycled through my mind, and nothing felt like the solution.

I observed how overwhelmed I felt, and also how much resistance I had for simply pausing and breathing. All my usual practices were not helpful. I knew I needed something more potent. I needed nature. 

I reluctantly switched gears and went to the forest.

I sprinted half the way there, and rapidly walked the other half. I felt the immense energy in my body swirling and pounding in my heart. I felt agitation, impatience, fury.

I entered the forest with my breath shallow and fast.

I walked with angry rapid stomps against the ground. This walk was a 'check' on the list that I wanted to complete. Thoughts still swirled in my head of all the things I needed to do.

I walked for a mere 10 seconds before suddenly halting. The entire length of the trail was a path of mud and puddles. It had rained the day before.

I wanted to walk fast, but now I was forced to slow down.

I began carefully tiptoeing around the saturated Earth and tiny puddles of mucky water. What began as a walk to release some of my inner fury, became a slow and silly game of hopping around and over puddles.

Nature has a funny way of helping us sometimes.

It was likely a humorous sight to behold. Part of me wanted to turn back, declare the walk useless and not worth my time. And the other part of me knew that this was exactly what I needed.

The puddles arrived so I could slow down, hop, get muddy, and laugh at myself a little bit.

I still felt a twinge of annoyance, but also a deep recognition that this was medicine for my soul.

I decided to participate. I took off my shoes.

Of course there was some resistance to stepping into the cool squishy pools of mud, and yet a clear sense of awareness that this was the medicine. I took my first step into the murky water contained in misshaped molds of soft mud.

Cold. Squishy. Uncomfortable. I shrieked and giggled.

I looked around in case there was anybody watching. Nobody. Just me and the trees and this cold squishy mud. I took a deep breath and felt the cool mucky Earth absorb all the fiery energy within me. Mud squished between my toes. The hot angst sunk down and emptied out of my body.

Yes, this was what I needed.

I walked for some time this way until I could finally feel again.

I didn't notice it right away, but eventually I could feel my heart and what was really going on underneath all that impatience, anger, and overwhelm.

Underneath it all, I felt grief.

"Oh yeah, I've been here before," I thought to myself. (You can read my post on grief here).

There it is, right in my chest, I noticed. I rubbed my hand over my chest and soothed and talked to my grief like a little child.

It had been a while since I had checked in with my grief. With so much happening in our world, there is a lot of sadness and pain to sift through and process. When we don't check in, the pain and sadness can grow and accumulate, louder and louder, until we pause and take notice.

When we check in with our grief, it doesn't mean we try to make it go away.

When we check in with grief, we acknowledge that we are holding a lot inside. We acknowledge that there is a lot happening in the world outside.

It doesn't mean we can take away all of the problems of the world, but at least we are not creating more suffering within ourselves by running away from our emotions, our heart, our soul.

I spent the rest of the walk holding my grief and talking with it.

Eventually I put my shoes back on.

The puddles seemed to thin out.

It was easier to walk again.

I came out of forest calm and slow. I felt relaxed and at ease.

It was as if I had entered a portal through the forest and came out a new person. I was no longer running away from my grief. I was no longer running away from myself.

The medicine of the Earth cut through all the layers of resistance and brought me home to myself.

Our beautiful Earth is always here for us in times of need. If we are willing to listen, she is there.